


Revenge

by Because_Of_Music



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not Canon Compliant, Not Happy, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:16:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Because_Of_Music/pseuds/Because_Of_Music
Summary: "After all he’s done, Jon’s not sure he deserves to be alive.He still dreams of her at night: her big, sad amethyst eyes that look at him while he lowers her to the ground and a small rivulet of blood falls from her mouth.""You all expected a mad queen, so I gave you one."A little disclaimer: if you're a Jonerys shipper this story is not for you, no comfort to be found here.





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Ok, so this is the very first story I post here, so I'd be happy to know what you all think.  
I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know if I wrote anything wrong.  
I wrote as a coping mechanism for what they did to my beautiful baby Daenerys: they did her dirty and (like the North) I will remeber it; the story is set after the end of the war for the Iron Throne, everything that happened in the show happened here too, except for a couple of things but you'll see as you read, I'm not gonna spoil it.  
Please make sure you read before going for the notes at the end of the work (spoiler alert), I hope to hear your opinion in the comments!

**“I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe ** **and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid.**

**George R. R. Martin – A Clash of Kings”**

It’s sowing again, after only five days since they stopped marching and pitched camp in a large clearing; Jon watches the group of Wildings that stuck with him after they all left Castle Black. They are mostly men, a few women and a couple of kids: naturally that includes Tormund and Ghost.  
His redheaded friend sits beside him and shakes him a little:  
-We should resume marching, little crow, if the weather gets worst the few shelter we were able to build will be crushed under the snow’s weight. –  
Jon nods, but keeps staring at the ground.  
It hasn’t been many moons since he was set free and sent north, but he spends his days wondering how his siblings are doing, << actually >> he corrects himself bitterly << my cousins >>.

Sansa sent him a raven while he was still on the Westerosi’s side of the Wall, telling him he will always be welcome in Winterfell, and that he could move back there, spending his life as her advisor now that the Unsullied and the Dothraki had left. He refused though, he didn’t want to disobey his king, he still doesn’t.  
Bran the Broken, the most unlikely yet the fairest choice.  
Every now and then there are a few ravens that fly over his group as they move through the forest, and Jon can’t help but wonder if he’s being watched.  
He hasn’t heard of Arya ever since they last saw each other in King’s Landing.

-Enough with that sad face! – adds Tormund -come drink with us, so we can forget our frozen butts! – and then drags him near one of the fires that have been lit up around the camp.  
The wine is the last of many gifts Sansa sent him at Castle Black before he left it, and it helps him find a bit of relief, it fuddles his mind and burns his guts. It helps him remember he’s alive.  
After all he’s done, Jon’s not sure he deserves to be alive.  
He still dreams of her at night: her big, sad amethyst eyes that look at him while he lowers her to the ground and a small rivulet of blood falls from her mouth.  
It was wrong, but she loved him and he betrayed her: he put a knife in her chest because it was the only thing he could do to save the country. Daenerys was out of control at this point.  
There are days he wishes to switch place with the Iron Throne: dying wrapped up in flames would have been so much easier than spend the rest of his days with the guilt he’s carrying.  
He’s so grateful to have Tormund by his side, hid friend forces him to eat and doesn’t allow him to isolate himself; he’s also grateful that everyday he can keep his mind busy by running the camp: he organizes the groups of hunters and the stocks of food and water, moreover he decides the path the group will take the following day and looks for good places to set camp.  
At night, however, he manages to fall asleep only when he’s exhausted, and if the gods grant him a dreamless sleep that lasts no longer than a couple of hours.

After half an hour around the campfire the men get close to him, discussing what to do tomorrow, since it started snowing again: ignoring Tormund’s and a couple of other’s objections that would like to resume marching immediately, they decide to stay in the clearing for the night, since it’s already too late to move any further. In the morning a small group of men will go hunting, while the rest of the group will get ready to march again.  
They are running out of food and finding wildlife is getting more and more difficult: if the situation doesn’t turn around soon, they will be forced to move back, closer to the Wall. The mere idea of living so close to the Seven Kingdoms and not being able to be a part of them breaks his heart.  
When everything is settled everyone walks off to the tents, including Jon.  
He gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on with a sigh, and a movement at the verge of the clearing capture his attention.  
-What’s wrong? – asks Tormund, approaching after he saw Jon tense up from the distance.  
His little crow keeps watching a point beyond the light cast by the flames, he suddenly shakes his head and they both walks toward their bedroll.  
-I thought I saw someone, but I was wrong. –  
The movement of the snowflakes probably tricked him.

Jon recalls the Battle of the Bells in his sleep: the crowd around him screams and sway, desperately trying to avoid Drogon’s lethal breath; the smell of burn bodies is so shrill that he barely manages to keep himself from throwing up, and everywhere he looks there are Unsullied, Dothraki and his men slaughtering innocent people and unarmed soldiers.  
He awakes with a gasp and lays still in bed, watching the ceiling, listening to the sound of the snow outside his tent; he’s waiting for the first light of dawn to get out and keep his mind busy again.

The sun finally rises, so he gets up and changes into something more suitable for the hunt; the men joins him, while everybody else still sleeps.  
They split in two groups: the largest one, led by Tormund, will march south, the direction they came from, hoping to find more food, while Jon and another man will keep going north, to check if the land has enough resources to sustain the whole group. If not, the party will resume marching south as soon as they get back.  
-Take Ghost with you – says Jon to Tormund – you’re more likely to find some deer or some hare, and he can help you hunt them. –  
The redheaded man nods and pat him on his shoulder before leaving.  
Jon walks in the opposite direction with Drastum, after petting his lily-white direwolf.  
The firs two hours fly by, his travelling partner doesn’t talk much, and Jon is fine with it; lately he finds comfort in the sounds of the nature around him: he lets his mind focusing on it, instead of the memories of the horror he witnessed in King’s Landing.  
Every so often he thinks he perceives someone moving behind them, but the snow is still falling hard and the wind is howling in his ears, so he cannot tell what’s real and what’s not.

Later on, they have marched north for four hours without meeting any kind of wildlife, so they decide to stop and rest for about half an hour before going back to the camp and move south.  
There’s not enough time to gather some wood and lit a fire, so they look for shelter under the low branches of two firses.  
They lie close, and the heat of their bodies make it easier for Jon to drift off after the sleepless night he had.  
When he wakes up a while later he has no idea how much time has passed, but Drastum isn’t beside him, and in the dim light he notices a small figure standing in front of him; his heart beats louder in his ears, it almost looks like… but the figure vanishes in the blink of an eye.

Jon gets up and starts looking for his pal, since it’s time to head back: he finds Drastum after a few minutes, the Wilding is crouched in the bushes and groans loudly.  
-What’s happening? What are you doing? – he asks running towards the man.  
-What does it look like I’m doing? I lowered my breeches because I wanted to freeze my ass and cock! – is the caustic answer.  
Jon blushes and turn around, plugging up his nose and stepping away.  
In that moment he sees the figure again: it stands between the trees and stares at him; after a few seconds it disappears again with a silver reflection.  
Forgetting Drastum at his back, he follows the reflection that shines from tree to tree, guiding him.

Half an hour later his route ends at the feet of a snow-capped hill, where a woman with amethyst eyes and silver hair is staring at him silently.  
He can’t believe what he sees: his throat is dry, and his eyes are filled with tears.  
-Daenerys. –  
She’s even more beautiful than he remembers: her porcelain skin, her hair is loose and now covered in snowflakes, her cheeks are as rosy as her lips are pale.  
She’s wearing a winter dress, as white as their surroundings, that wraps up her draft figure magistrally.  
Jon makes just one step towards her, before her voice snaps at him as hard as a whip:  
-Now you’re happy to see me? –  
-Dany, please, I didn’t… -  
-You didn’t want to kill me? Or, at least, try to kill me? – she asks tauntingly.  
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just lowers his stare to the ground.  
The Mother od Dragons walks towards him.  
-I trusted you, I trusted Tyrion Lannister and Varys, all of you. I put aside my war for the Iron Throne because I believed you when you said the White Walkers were coming for the living. –  
Jon opens his mouth to interrupt her, but Daenerys doesn’t allow him.  
-I sacrificed two of my children, the only children I’ll ever have, I lost half of my army, my best friend, the only man who has loved and followed me ever since my days as a Khaleesi. – her voice doesn’t break nor betrays any kind of emotion, but each word is sharper than Valyrian’s steel swords. – and in the end I discover you’re all plotting behind my back. -   
-I did not plot against you, I didn’t betray you. – is all he can muster before she attacks him with her words again.  
-You’re the one who caused the biggest damage! I, a queen, literally begged you not to tell a soul about your lineage. Bur of course you, noble soul, couldn’t keep it to yourself: so you talked with that traitorous sister of yours. –  
Jon gets pale and Daenerys stares at him with a mocking grin.  
-How do you think my closest advisors knew? Sansa never wanted me on the Throne, ever since I set foot to Winterfell she tried to detract me in every possible way. Did you really think she would keep your secret just because she promised you? If that’s so then your even dumber than I thought. –

Jon is actually hurt by this revelation: when Varys approached him on the beach after he arrived at Dragonstone he thought the man knew about his identity thanks to his net of spies spread across the Seven Kingdoms, on the other hand he is not really surprised. Sansa has spent a lot of years under Littlefinger’s influence, and she has learned how to play the game of thrones really well: his sister didn’t want the Mother of Dragons on the Iron Throne, so when she found out about his better claim she infused the doubt in the people who were closest to Daenerys.

The woman in front of him drags him out of his thoughts as she keeps talking.  
-Right after Rhaegal and Missandei’s death I started thinking about it: how could my better advisors forget the existence of an entire enemy fleet that was so close to Dragonstone? What could possibly be keeping their mind so distracted from the war I was going to ride into? –  
She pierces him with her eyes: they once used to look at him lovingly, but now all he can see is cold and deathly rage.  
-Missandei told me once that I’m good at finding solution for impossible situations, see a way out of them that no one has ever thought of, so I wondered: if even a man as the Kingslayer, so desperately and hopelessly in Iove with his queen could change side and leave her alone, maybe traitors were spreading within my army too. Varys and my Hand confirmed my suspicions. –  
Daenerys turns around and walks back to the hill, while Jon watches her, bewitched.  
-Lady Olenna was right: the lords of Westeros would never respect me, had they not feared me. You all expected a mad queen, so I gave you one. –  
-So, the life of innocent people isn’t wort a thing to you? – he reacts.  
-What about my people? What about my blood rider that you needlessly sent crashing against the undead? You stood there, astride Rhaegal, waiting for the Night King, and you were so focused you didn’t set the foxhole on fire and my Unsullied sacrificed themselves protecting the retreat. –  
-We all sacrificed something that night. –  
-I lost more than all of you! – she hisses – but obviously the glory of riding a dragon is all for the Stark King, right? – she looks sad now.  
-I’m only half a Stark, and you know it. – he says, trying to fight the weight in his chest.  
-I know, you’re half a Stark, but you’re not half a Targaryen. –  
Jon’s head snaps at her, and he moves a few steps in her direction.  
-What are you talking about? I told you, Sam found the paper that showed the wedding between Lyanna Stark and your brother. –  
She looks at him and her face grows even more desperate.  
-Aegon Targaryen was the son of my brother and Elia Martell, he died by the hand of Gregor Clegane during Robert Baratheon’s rebellion. –  
The new commander of the black cloaks blanches, incapable of stopping the thoughts that are clouding his mind.  
-The wedding with Lyanna Stark never happened – she goes on – I don’t know why your friends lied to you. – she is whispering now -which means you pushed me away for nothing. – her tone is full of rage and hurt.

Jon can’t look her in the eyes anymore: if she’s right and his name is not Aegon Targaryen, if the wedding never happened then… he thought he couldn’t live with the guilt of killing her, and now, knowing he helped pushing her towards her madness with his behaviour is even worst. What could he do though? He loved her, he still loves her, and he couldn’t stay away from her, but at the same time he thought they were blood, they shouldn’t be together.  
Somewhere in the forest he can hear Drastum’s voice calling for him: they both ignore it and keep staring at each other.  
-Don’t you even try and stand up for yourself? – she mocks him – Don’t you tell me I’m your queen now and forever? After all, that’s pretty much all you had to say during the war. –  
-I know that now it may sounds like a lie, but I loved you Dany, I loved you and I would have followed you to the end of the world, but not if that meant killing innocent people, that price was too high: you were out of control!- is all he manages to say before she interrupts him again.  
-And your solution was putting a knife in my heart? –  
-As I can see you’re perfectly fine, and you’re ready to take back what you think is yours. – he answers.  
-You know, at first I wanted to do just that: wait until you all thought you were safe and then tear your happiness apart, but unlike the people who served me, I don’t make the same mistake twice. I was never accepted here, no matter what I do, the people will always see me as a foreign queen. I’ll stay in the lands across the Narrow Sea, watching over the people I freed, protecting them.  
-With which army do you think you will maintain peace? –  
She curls her lips in a mocking smile.  
-Did you really think my blood riders and the Unsullied set sail for Naath? – she shaked her head, laughing softly – Before the Battle of the Bells I gave instruction to Grey Worm: if the traitors put their plan in motion then he knew what to do. –  
-How could you be certain to survive? – he asks, puzzled.  
-Drogon and I are one thing: I am him and he is me. As long as one is alive the other is too. I was surprised too when I first found out. –  
Jon gulps, trying to ignore the cold shiver that is running down his spine, while she stands there, beautiful and deathly, and stares at him. He has to find a way out of here, he has to find a way to warn the other beyond the Wall that she survived, and if they want to kill her they’ll have to eliminate the dragon too.  
<< She fooled us all. >> he tells himself.  
He moves towards her, raising his voice, hoping that Drastum will find him quickly.  
-Why are you here, then? Why did you travel all this way, to the frozen end of the world? –  
There’s a cruel smile on her face right now.  
-To get revenge. -

To his horror, Jon realizes that the hill behind Daenerys back is moving; terrified he stares as Drogon shakes the snow off himself, revealing his enormous, scaled, black body, and then slowly positions himself behind his mother.  
This beast is even larger and scarier than he remembers.  
-I want you to know – she says, her face a mask of disdain – that after dealing with you I’ll take care of your sweet sister Sansa, and there’s nothing you can do to save her this time. –  
-Dany, no. – Jon begs, unable to conceal the agony in his voice.  
-At first I wanted to hurt lord Tyrion too, but I have no doubt that his affection for the queen of the North will be enough to make him suffer for her death. Unlike you, he’ll live knowing he could not prevent what’s coming for her. –  
He wants to throw himself at her feet and beseech her “I’ll do whatever you want as long as you leave my family alone”, but his body is petrified with fear, there’s nothing he can do but watch as Drogon stretches out his neck and slowly opens his jaws.  
-Dany, please. – Jon whispers.  
-_Dracarys_. -

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again.  
Sorry if you're a fan of Jon's character, but hey at least he'll make a tasty appetizer for Drogon, beside I think that all he did in the last season screamed for revenge (starting with how he behaved towards Daenerys and ending with the way he fought during the battle of Winterfell and the one of King's Landing), and this is my way of getting it.  
Since I'm new around here, please let me know if there's anything I should change in the tags, I didn't want to spoil the end so I didn't put the "Major Character Death" warning, but please let me know if it's necessary.
> 
> *edit: I deleted the tag regarding the relationship, so it should be better now, sorry if it tricked you into reading, it wasn't my intention at all.


End file.
